ShiftingHeat

by Lynne Connolly

  How she could feel hungry she didn’t know, but she devoured her share and drank the freshly made brew, so different from the coffee she’d forced down at the station. She needed that caffeine jolt.

  Nick sprawled in a chair and nodded to her, one colleague to another. Ann gave her a thin smile. For once, her face showed the evidence of strain, the fine lines around her mouth and the corners of her eyes deeper, creases between her brow as she gave them the bad news. “It’s unlikely that Professor Nordheim killed Serena Duval. We still have a killer out there.”

  “Oh shit.” The others must have known, because they watched her, waited for her reaction. She swore and picked up another sandwich. She wasn’t entirely surprised, as she’d seen once before the results of a close-up shooting by vintage weapon, the kind that Nordheim had used on her. And when she’d first entered Serena’s office, she hadn’t scented the distinctive odor of black powder but Serena had been shot all the same. She hadn’t voiced her concerns to the police. It might have revealed just how much she knew about weapons of the Old West.

  “I want the mission to continue. There are obviously other people out there left to discover.” Ann sighed. “Johann wants to come back, but he’s been working nonstop for the past six months and I’d prefer to give him some downtime.” Andros gave a curt nod. “If you want to pull out, I’ll make other arrangements,” Ann told them. She still wore one of her power suits, even though it was nearly one a.m. She appeared immaculate. Faye was beginning to tire of the perfection of the women she met these days.

  She grabbed another sandwich. “No way do I want to stop,” she said. “I’m in the best position. Put somebody else in and they’ll work for months to get where I am now.” Not to mention the personal scores she wanted to settle. She wanted to be able to sleep at night. She wanted to know who killed Serena, why Harken had done what he had.

  Ann nodded. “But this has shaken you.”

  “It’s supposed to,” she said. “But I’ve seen it before.”

  “When?” The woman was too sharp, not giving her any respite.

  “My parents. They were murdered.”

  Andros heard Faye’s statement with a dull sense of wonder. After a day as exhausting, as traumatic as this one, he felt battered and shaken up as badly as he could ever remember being. This operation was going wrong, fast. He’d sat in on enough missions, acted as research and backup to know the difference between smooth-flowing as opposed to “Ohshitohshitohshit”. They were somewhere between the two, but the murders had affected him badly. He hadn’t known Serena well, but that didn’t mean he didn’t mourn her or feel impotent fury at her unpredictable and untimely death. He did both, sorrow hollowing him out, fury filling him up again, and remembered terror when he’d seen Nordheim aim that gun at Faye giving him a depth of despair he never wanted to experience again.

  Besides, he had to comfort and care for her now. He couldn’t think of himself. Mustn’t. If he did, he might blow. Too many shocks too close together over the last year, and then the conversion. He wasn’t sure where he was, what he was doing anymore. He was in the process of changing into a different person. Fuck, a different being. And now this. He listened to her story in a state of disbelief.

  “I came home from school one day and they were just gone,” she said. “In those days nobody knew about Talents, so I was fostered out with a mortal family after my parents disappeared. I knew I’d be a dragon, both my biological parents had been and I was their only child. So when I reached puberty, I had my first shape-shift. I scared the shit out of them. My foster parents sent me away, even though they’d wanted to adopt me before.” She swallowed. “Then the police discovered what had happened to my parents when someone stumbled on the bodies. Or what was left of them. They’d been murdered the same night they disappeared, or shortly afterward. Shot. We lived in Michigan, and there was a lot of land out back of our farmhouse.” She glanced at Andros, revealing for one telling moment the hurt she was bottling up inside.

  He knew, he could sense it, but while she told the story she was shutting him out too. He tried not to take it personally. She could do without trouble from him too, but he couldn’t deny his hurt. She turned her attention back to Ann.

  “From the vicious way they were killed, I’ve always suspected that the anti-Talent people had something to do with it. My mother was a loving spirit and she’d shared her secret with some of her friends.”

  “So you think someone there killed her.”

  He was glad Ann said that. Words were choking him right now. He shoved his hands in his pocket and felt something he didn’t recognize. He drew it out and then immediately dropped it back in. Shit, he’d picked up that fucking watch, the one on Serena’s desk. He’d think about it later. Too much to cope with right now.

  Faye swallowed. “I’m sure someone did. You know how it goes in small communities. Mom’s friend Susie told her friend Carole, and Carole was the sister of Joyce Cardross. And Joyce was married to the chief of police. He didn’t like my parents, and he ran our town as if it belonged to him.”

  “You know it for sure? That he killed them?” Ann demanded sharply.

  She shook her head. “I never found any proof. I left town after my foster parents disowned me and I lived nearby, in the woods for a while. I didn’t know what to do. So I saw them dig up my parents. When I realized there was no reason for me to stay, I went into a big city. Lost myself. But I know from reading the newspapers about the case that the bullets that killed them came from a vintage Colt. Cardross was the only man in town with a vintage gun collection. He used to boast that he was as good a shot with an old army Colt as he was with his standard issue firearm. He used to practice in the woods, and I’d hear him and shudder. I never liked the sound, even then. It would be like him to prove what he said. But I never went back. I promised myself I wouldn’t.”

  She dropped her head. It sagged forward before she jerked it back up but that second of exhaustion wasn’t lost on Andros. He yearned to hold her but he understood her need to appear strong.

  Ann touched her hand before she withdrew it. “And this business is bringing it back for you?”

  Faye shook her head. “Not exactly. Except when I heard the shot, smelled the discharge and saw that gun in Nordheim’s hand. He had a vintage weapon.”

  “She’s right,” Nick put in. “The cops have it now. A strange choice of weapon.”

  “Not unusual, though. Plenty of people have collections,” Andros said. He collected vintage games consoles. Other people collected guns.

  “I don’t know.” Ann leaned back and opened her desk drawer. She drew out a CD. “This is the record of an old case, from before Talents were outed. Several Talents were tracked and killed, all with bullets from vintage weapons that mostly dated to the nineteenth century. We never solved that one, it’s still on the books. Maybe they’re starting again. Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  “Maybe it isn’t,” Nick said.

  Ann tapped the CD. “I’ll make sure you get a copy, Andros.” Her eyes narrowed when she looked at Faye. “Are you sure you’re okay? If you left, it would come as a setback. But you’re not indispensible. If you need out, tell me now and I’ll put somebody else in your place.”

  Faye shook her head. “I want to know what’s going on. End it for sure and kill all the ghosts. I’ll be fine.”

  “Nordheim’s operation is bigger than we thought,” Ann said. “The police alerted us to a crate at LaGuardia today. It was heading upstate and it had a vampire in it. A student from Speke University, to be precise. Alive, though deeply traumatized. The abductors are still active, and I want the bastards.”

  Ann gave her attention to Andros. He wished she wouldn’t. A feeling crept over him, from low down. He wasn’t going to like what she said next.

  “Andros, it’s getting too dangerous for you to go in as you are now. You’re new to the field and you don’t have the skills that will keep you hidden. You don’t have the knack of keepin
g your cover consistent, either physically or mentally. So if we’re to use you in this mission, you have two choices. You can stay at STORM and provide the backup we need, or you can go into the field. But if you do that, you’ll either have to become what you’re claiming to be or you’ll have to get out.”

  “How?” he demanded. Yes, sure, he’d dropped his cover in Serena’s office. “And who said so? Is there someone else there?”

  Ann grimaced. “I can’t tell you. But I was informed by a reliable source. It doesn’t have anything to do with this case, just someone I know at the university who noticed the inconsistencies and worried about it. We need constancy, Andros.”

  “What about Faye? She’s not seen as a Talent in the university.”

  Ann glanced at Faye. “Her cover is solid. Likely because she’s been doing it a lot longer than you.”

  “I won’t stop now,” Faye said. “I can’t. I have to see this through, find out who’s doing those hateful things to students and staff. I enabled Nordheim to carry on his activities, and even though it isn’t my fault, I want to make amends.”

  “Then I won’t come in, either.” He wanted to care for her. Protect her. Fuck, he needed to do it.

  “I thought you’d say that.” The lines around Ann’s mouth deepened, and just from that tiny sign, he knew this was going to be bad. “We can temporarily disable you. As soon as you shape-shift, you’ll be cured, but if you can hold off, you’ll stay as you once were. That way, if people read you, they’ll see the disability, the real disability.”

  She was right, he knew she was right. He’d felt his mental cover slip several times today. If he’d been read by a hostile Talent, they’d realize he was hiding something and they’d take him. After today’s events, they’d be even more on the alert. “What do you want to do?”

  “We can simulate your condition with drugs and a small procedure. And they’ll have a lasting effect, so if you miss a few doses you won’t immediately be cured. And, of course, you have to take cephalox.”

  “Why?”

  “If you shape-shift, you’ll revert the procedure. You’ll be whole again. And although you’ve only been a shape-shifter for a short time, you still have that instinct. You contact your dragon several times a day, whether you realize it or not, and you have the shape-shifter’s instinct to change your form in trouble. Even the thought will alert anyone who has a decent level of telepathy. The drugs will suppress your sigil too.”

  So he couldn’t shape-shift, even if he wanted to. That scared him, hollowed his stomach then filled it with bile. It scared him a lot, but what could he do? If Faye was going back, then so would he. “Do you really think it’s necessary?”

  “If you want to stay in the field. You’ll still have telepathy, but that’s all.” Mortals had telepathy, but normally it was dormant. More of them were working to bring the gift out, to develop it so they could communicate with Talents and each other. If anyone discovered that ability in him, he could explain it away.

  Only one thing remained. “And I can be useful like that?”

  Ann fixed him with one of her direct stares. He couldn’t look away. “Your skills for STORM have never been those of your Talent. They’ve been the skills of the mind. You can make links like nobody else, not even our other hot researcher, Jack Hargreaves, who isn’t currently available in any case. You have a devious mind, Andros, you make cases that way. You don’t miss a trick. And that’s what I want you there for. To make the patterns, to penetrate deep. You’ll be with Faye, who will act as your bodyguard. From now on you and Faye are a team. I want this group rooted out, completely destroyed, and I need someone like you for that.”

  “Won’t it be dangerous to leave me vulnerable?” He was still fighting but he knew she was right. And he wanted to get the fucks who’d killed Serena if it wasn’t Nordheim. He wanted that badly.

  “Sure it will,” Ann said, “but we’ll do our best to avert that. No, Nick will be the bait. He’s replacing Serena in her job, but he is going to be fully and blatantly what he is. If they want a Talent, they’ll go for him.”

  “Just watch the skies when I arrive for work,” Nick rumbled.

  Chapter Seven

  Faye preferred not to think about the coming night, but she’d never shirked any responsibility before. And staying with Andros was more than a responsibility—it was a necessity.

  Before Andros went in for the procedure, she had the chance of a private moment with him. Only a short time, while the local anesthetic was taking effect. “You shouldn’t do this. You can’t. Staying at STORM will be better.”

  He gripped her hand tight but kept his mind steady. “I’ve been through procedures before, and I spent most of my life worse than this. I’m not going to suffer constant pain and live with the knowledge that I’ll die young. With a single bound, I can be free. Well, a couple of bounds, maybe.”

  That had probably made him older than his years, despite her initial thought that he appeared younger. Her admiration for him and what he had done went up threefold. Tenfold. “You were so brave.”

  He laughed. “That’s what they always used to say. It’s not true. I just learned how to cope with something I couldn’t change. Sure, I got desperate and did some stupid things looking for a cure. But I always knew it would get me. The only thing you can do is to live each day to its utmost. Bravery is facing something you don’t have to face, choosing to do it.” He closed his mouth with a snap.

  “Just like I said, only I’ll change the tense. You are brave.”

  He grinned and leaned in to kiss her. That was when they’d come to take him into surgery.

  Despite his words, she couldn’t imagine how he’d coped. But an hour after he’d woken from the procedure and dutifully taken the drugs that the medics gave him, he lost the ability to walk without aid. He could stand briefly, drag himself around on crutches, even take a couple of steps if he steadied himself on a piece of furniture, but he couldn’t walk. It hurt to see the strong, confident lover she’d known turn into a physical wreck, but she understood his determination and admired him with a depth of devotion that would have shocked him, had she let him know.

  He insisted on recovering on his own, and while his decision had hurt her, she understood. He needed time to cope with the change and he wanted to set his mind to it. Best done alone.

  At just after four a.m. the doctor came out of the room after his final check. “You can go in now.”

  They’d used an iso room, one of those white rooms that were completely cut off from the world, after they’d come back from their trip to the hospital. No psi contact, and with the door sealed, no physical contact, either. He’d asked for it, so he could recover in complete solitude. That was a sign that some of the mortal thinking still remained. Talents detested solitude, but mortals sometimes sought it.

  She felt his pain as soon she walked into the room, felt it when she closed the door even more. Physical and mental. Brave again, to let her see it, let her view his vulnerability.

  He caressed her mind in welcome. “I wish I’d had telepathy before. It’s very useful for a cripple.”

  “I hate it when you call yourself that.”

  His mouth twisted as he tried to smile and didn’t make it. “It means other people can’t call me a cripple first. I’m used to it. And it’s what I am.”

  “It’s cruel. Ann Reynolds shouldn’t do this to you.” Perhaps she’d been right all along about STORM.

  He shook his head. “No, she’s right. This is what I am, deep down. I’ve been a dragon for less than a year. Before that, I had the mindset of a dying man. I still have in some ways. I have a morbid sense of humor, I work like every day is my last. I still brace myself on my arms before I stand. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

  “No.” Too busy ogling him, sharing abandoned lovemaking with him. Yes, even that was the act of a man who knew his tomorrows were limited. So in a way he was right. She recognized the phenomenon. Knew it to be true. “So Ann made
you what you were.”

  “Because it fits. Don’t get me wrong, with one shape-shift I can shake this off. I persuaded them to reduce the cephalox they’ve given me to the bare minimum. It’s fantastic knowing that. The mild dose of cephalox is enough to make it hard to convert, so I really have to mean it. They don’t realize that shape-shifting is the oddity for me. I have to think hard every time I shape-shift.”

  He shrugged and winced. She felt his twinge of pain.

  “Having Becker’s is more than not being able to walk. It affects all the body, weakens the muscles, makes it hard to retain control. Look.” He lifted his hand from the arm of his chair. It trembled before he put it back. “The drugs cause that. And because I had the condition, I have the mindset that goes with it. The people we’re looking for won’t believe I’m a shape-shifter, and they won’t take me seriously. So although I work at STORM, they’ll believe I’m mortal, that I’m what I seem to be.”

  “I can’t bear it.”

  He sighed and held out his hand to her. She took it, sat on the hard plastic chair set next to him and shoved aside the cradle holding the bag that had pumped poison into his veins. Only a bandage stuck across the back of his hand showed where it had entered his body. She grasped his hand. It felt the same.

  “I’ll hack into the university computer system,” he told her. “There are teams here looking at Serena’s pupil list, especially the students she tutored. They’ll send me a list.” And I’ll have you. The most gorgeous bodyguard a man could ever wish for.” He leaned in for a kiss.

  That felt the same too and when she opened her mouth for him, he took advantage, tasting her at his leisure. She returned the favor. He tasted slightly different, but still Andros, still this remarkable man she was letting in so deep she didn’t know if she’d ever be happy without him.

  He drew back. “Pass me the crutches, will you?”

  He got to his feet with the help of the table. It squeaked. She turned away and grabbed the crutches she’d brought down from his apartment, handing them to him and watching as he deftly pushed his forearms into the cuffs and balanced. He stared at her. He seemed shorter like this, his stance adjusted to account for the nearly useless legs. But he was still Andros.